


Castiel Thought they were Freckles

by insominia



Series: Freckles and Dirt [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Minor Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 05:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17440538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: Neither Sam or Dean Winchester have a soul mark, the first words you hear your soul mate ever say. But during a particularly disastrous hunt it transpires that maybe they do, and that maybe Sam is just lying and Dean is oblivious.





	Castiel Thought they were Freckles

"Come on, Sam, you can do this," Dean grunted as his brother let out another pained yell. He looked around himself, but there was nothing to hand that could help and he didn't want to leave Sam alone for the moment. Maybe if he had something to bite down on it would help? At the other end of the bed, Castiel was cradling Sam's foot, which was starting to resemble something like a foot again with every burst of healing the angel sent his way.

"The bone is no longer broken," Cas said, his fingers lightly holding Sam's ankle, sensing where the most damage had been done, where the most immediate attention was required, "but the wounds are still deep, this will continue to hurt."

Dean's grip on his brother's shoulders tightened. Even though he knew that everything was going to be alright it felt like a kick in the gut to see Sam like this. Like several kicks in the gut. By steel-toed boots.

"It's ok, Dean," Sam gasped out, managing to take one of his brother's hands and just about holding onto it; Sam was sweating so much it was a wonder he could hold onto anything. Dean couldn't help but scoff that Sam was comforting _him_ , as though he were the one paler than any living creature had any business being, breathing heavily through the pain.

Castiel caught Dean's eye and nodded, almost imperceptibly. Dean nodded back and gripped Sam tighter as he screamed against the glow of Castiel's hands. The light lasted but a moment and faded, leaving Sam panting heavily but at least his foot was looking back to normal; it was just surface cuts to deal with now. Castiel was exhausted, Dean could tell from the slump in his shoulders. It had been a long time since he'd had to heal anything this bad and he wasn't exactly at full power, but still, he did not relinquish his grip on Sam's foot even though what remained could probably be sorted with good old fashioned stitches and bandages.

Once more Castiel allowed his grace to rush forward and touch Sam's bloody marks and it was done. Sam allowed himself to drop back on the bed, uncomfortable as it was, breathing heavily, but no longer in pain at least. Dean patted his shoulder, relief flooding through him, "you're ok," he breathed, wiping his own brow and moving to fetch them all some much-needed beers. Not for the first time on this case, he wished they'd brought something stronger.

The room was still for a moment, the only movement coming from Dean flicking the tops off the beer with a familiar hiss. Sam just lay, staring at the ceiling, trying to control his breathing. Castiel was still at the foot of the bed, his hands still holding Sam's foot, he was staring at it, puzzled.

"You ok, Cas?" Dean called when Cas had failed to respond to Dean's offer of a beer.

"There are words on Sam's foot," Castiel frowned, "but I am unsure of their meaning."

In an instant Sam had pulled his foot, harshly, out of Castiel's hands, and jumped from the bed, pacing as though just minutes earlier he hadn't seen parts of his ankle that most definitely should never be seen on the outside of his skin.

Castiel wasn't entirely sure what was occurring, but Sam was telling him to shut up, assuring them it was nothing, while Dean was staring at Sam as though Christmas had come early, "you have a soul-mark, and you never told me?"

"Shut up, Dean, leave it," Sam snapped, grabbing a beer, but Dean wouldn't leave it, he was grinning harder than Castiel had ever seen.

"You have a soul-mark?! What does it say?!"

" _Shut. Up. Dean_."

Castiel looked between the two brothers, from Sam's undisguised fury, despite having recently been healed from an injury that would have certainly put him out of the hunting business, and indeed the walking business, to Dean who was positively beaming. "I don't understand," he rasped, his eyes on Sam, "I thought a soul-mark was a good thing, doesn't it indicate the person you were destined to be with?"

"Yup," Dean grinned, "the first words you ever hear off your soulmate, and Sammy here's been hiding it from us! I'm impressed," he raised his beer to Sam, "really, I'm impressed, all these years and you managed to keep it hidden."

"Yeah well," Sam sighed, there was no way he was getting out of this one, "it helps when it's on the bottom of your foot."

Silence descended on the room, as both Dean and Castiel stared at Sam, waiting for him to break, which he inevitably would.

"So," Dean prompted, "what's it say?" unable to wait for Sam to say it. But Sam just glared at him, shaking his head.

"I have been mopping this floor for six years," Castiel said.

" _Dude_!"

"I've been mopping floors for six years?" Dean scoffed, "romantic."

At the table Sam glared at Dean, Castiel recognised the glare, the way he seemed to be willing Dean not to realise something and when Dean shrugged and said, almost softly, "well I hope you find them some time," Sam visibly relaxed, letting out a long, slow exhale.

"Yup. Some time," he busied himself with the beer and once again there was silence.

Dean could see the wheels in Castiel's head turning, even out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't moved from his place beside the bed, hadn't even bothered to clean himself of Sam's blood yet, but his head was cocked at that angle, his jaw set and scowling, Dean drank his beer and waited for the inevitable question.

"You don't have a soul-mark, Dean."

It wasn't a question.

From the chair, Sam raised his arms, "maybe he's just really good at hiding it."

"No, I've seen every part of Dean's body-"

" _Dude_!" Dean started choking on his beer while Sam dissolved into a fit of laughter.

Castiel rolled his eyes, "I mean when I rebuilt you, after hell."

" _Shut up_."

Sam was still smirking, but then he muttered, "do you really not? Like, really? You don't have one?"

Dean shrugged, "well I mean I thought you didn't until today, it's no big deal."

"Huh," Sam couldn't have made it sound like it was more of a big deal, "so... _really?_  You don't have one?"

"Oh, what so now that it turns out you were only pretending not to have one you're gonna tell me that it's all sunshine and rainbows and you feel sorry for me not having one?" Dean slammed the beer back onto the table, harder than he'd intended, but he wasn't having this conversation. Not with Sam. He'd heard it too many times the well-meaning but ultimately useless, _'but your soulmate must be out there somewhere, right_?' ' _How does it feel knowing they're not out there_?' And one chick who'd said, ' _maybe they're mute?'_

"No I don't have a soul-mark," Dean shrugged again, he'd spent a long time perfecting the art of not caring, "no soulmate waiting to spend the rest of their lives with me. With our way of life who could blame them."

"That's not-" Sam started but broke off. Dean knew that wasn't how it worked. He didn't need Sam to tell him that. All this time Dean had taken a little comfort in knowing that Sam didn't have a soulmate out there either, that the two of them would just go on hunting things until their time ran out. Just Sam and Dean against the world. The fact that Sam had had proof to the contrary all this time and had never trusted Dean with it, yeah he could admit it, it stung a little bit. Almost as much as it stung knowing that Dean really was a screw up by not having such a mark, at least before he could say, ' _hey my brother's not got one either, maybe it's a Winchester thing_.'

It occurred to him that even though he was sitting with his brother and Castiel standing beside them, Dean had never felt so alone as he did at that moment.

"I thought they were freckles," Castiel murmured, his eyes on some distant part of the floor. He spoke so quietly neither Sam or Dean heard, they both turned to him.

"What you say?"

"I thought they were freckles," Castiel said, louder now, his eyes on Dean with a greater intensity than Dean had seen in- well- maybe ever.

Both Sam and Dean stared at Castiel, waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn't seem to be able to do so.

"Cas, what you talking about, buddy?"

In response, Castiel crossed the room in what seemed like a single movement and hoisted Dean to his feet, lifting his shirt up as he did so, "whoah there," but Castiel was pointing at a smattering of freckles above Dean's hip.

"I put them back as freckles," Castiel said, again, aghast, "I didn't-I didn't think they were words."

"Calm down Cas," Dean said, "it's ok. I didn't have a soul mark before I went to hell, you didn't take anything away from me," but still, Castiel was looking at him like he'd done something terrible, the depths of his blue eyes awash with guilt that made Dean's stomach lurch, "it's ok," he said, again.

"Is that...Is that _Enochian_?" Sam said, suddenly, his eyes focusing on the freckles Castiel had revealed. He leaned forward, his hand bracing Dean's hip so he could focus and he ignored his brother when he let out an exasperated sigh.

"C'mon fellas, give a guy some space."

"Dean, I think that's Enochian."

"Sam, it's just freckles, like the birthmark on your knee, it looks a bit like a half moon but it doesn't mean anything."

"Dean, _look_."

With a huff, Dean moved away from the two of them and walked over to the mirror, happy to prove them both wrong. He angled himself so he could see what it was they were talking about. It was ridiculous, he thought, studying his skin harder than he ever had. They were just freckles, though yes, he did have to admit, now that he looked at them he could make out some shape to them, some resemblance to the holy language. "Whatever," he said, letting his shirt drop.

Sam was looking at Cas, Cas who's eyes had not left Dean for even a moment since this conversation began, "what does it say, Cas?"

"It doesn't say anything, Sam, leave it."

"Cas? What does it say?"

Castiel took a long, shuddering breath, as though the words were being forced from him. "It says...Dean Winchester is saved." Sam and Dean were both staring at him, Sam waiting for him to continue, Dean because he couldn't quite believe the conversation had gone this far. With another ragged breath, Castiel added, "they were the first words you heard me say...when I pulled you from perdition. When I rebuilt you."

The only sound was that of Sam's chair, scraping slowly across the floor as he pushed it back. With almost exaggerated stealth he tiptoed towards the door, slipped some shoes on, uncaring of the blood and grabbed his jacket, "I'll be- I'm gonna- Yeah, I'm just gonna-" and he was gone, the click of the door the only sound in the room. Dean hadn't seen him go, he'd barely heard him, every ounce of his being focused on the rather abashed looking angel standing before him.

" _Cas_." Dean breathed, warmth flooding through him as Castiel gave him a weak, unsure smile, "Cas, you saved me." Neither of them had moved and Castiel's smile faltered, but Dean laughed, "you always save me." Castiel wasn't sure what he meant, but that was ok, there would be plenty of time to clarify the finer points later.

Stepping towards him, Dean moved slowly, as though he were afraid Castiel would disappear before his very eyes, but he didn't, he just eyed him uncertainly.

"Cas," Dean breathed again, throwing out all the rules on personal space. It was like he was seeing Castiel for the first time, the warmth of understanding blooming within him as he realised something that had always been there, but he'd never seen before. Castiel looked so unsure under the scrutiny of Dean's gaze, Dean was staring at him as though he were the first rays of the dawn, the first stars to appear in the night sky, he'd never been looked at with such unabashed reverence before, which was impressive considering he was an angel.

Neither of them would have been able to say which of them moved first, they just sort of came together as though it were the most natural thing in the world for them to do so. Castiel's hand slipped around Dean's side, pressing against the smattering of freckles they knew now were not freckles, and the feeling that exploded within Dean was so mindblowing, he felt dizzy for a moment. He leaned his forehead against Castiel's just breathing in the moment, appreciating the scent of the angel on the air - the lightning in a rainstorm, the first crop of honey and the mustiness of the trench coat.

This was everything.

And then their lips had found each other, promising each other the world and more, communicating a lifetime of want and need into the soft press of lips, which didn't remain soft for long. Castiel groaned, or maybe it was Dean, perhaps both, and the kiss became heated with teeth nipping at lips and tongues clashing and exploring. They broke apart, breathless and again Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's, he wanted to be touching the angel for always.

"Cas."

"Dean."

 


End file.
